


The Space Taken Up By Silence

by internationalprincess



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-12
Updated: 2002-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internationalprincess/pseuds/internationalprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She closes her ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space Taken Up By Silence

Her former colleague didn't understand her when she said that public relations was, "quiet, compared to this."

"Compared to Hollywood? Are you crazy?" he laughed, distance distorting his voice just slightly, stretching across the continent from coast to coast. It was too hard to explain.

Some days she misses the silence. Every day she misses being alone.

It's the radio that wakes her, but in the fifteen minutes it takes her to get from mostly conscious to actually in the shower she turns on two television sets and starts the coffee. She leaves the bathroom door open hoping the mirror won't fog, listens to NPR as she attempts to scald the stiffness out of her muscles.

Fourteen steps from the elevator to her car park space. She slides behind the wheel in time for the headlines.

Four televisions, two phone lines and an assistant with the latest wires. By the time she hits her first briefing she's heard half a dozen people tell her more or less the same thing. She listens for something different.

\-- Katie, then Chris.

She splits her attention, two questions ahead. Watching the room carefully. There's an earpiece in her ear, two aides whispering at the side of the room, and she's trying to hear what the AP reporter's saying to the woman on his left.

She makes a mental note to ask Joey how hard it is to read lips.

\--That's all for now, I'll see you at noon.

Checking her voicemail ("Enter your pin, then press..."), she jots notes on a pad as Sam-on-the-phone turns into Sam at her door asking, "You got a minute?”

Her team gathers in her office to start the day. Questions two at a time, four at a time. No better than her press corps. Key pieces of information hide among the speculation. It's her job to weed them out, farm them out. The volume notches up a level, she finds herself bellowing, "Carol!"

Volume conveys urgency. Except when it's Josh.

\-- That will be covered in the briefing by State. Andy?

During the day the White House is a menagerie. She keeps her time in the bullpens to a minimum, wonders how someone like Donna concentrates over the constant drone of fax machines, pagers, phones, and people.

So many people.

It's no better in her office. The West Wing's walls are thin, suffering from constant repartitioning, as each administration needs more space. She hears Josh on the phone arguing, winces when his receiver slams.

\-- I'll deal with that at four o'clock. Mike?

And there are certain sounds she's attuned to, hears without noticing. The unmistakable rapid-fire of photoflashes, her name called out by twenty voices, the networks' signature music for breaking news.

Gunshots.

Even late at night, phones on speaker send faraway voices on conference calls floating out in to the corridors. Fast food orders are shouted out to passers-by. Security guards' radios chatter. There's an intern wearing headphones and singing at the Xerox machine.

There's no-one standing guard outside her door.

\-- I have nothing for you on that. One more question?

Leo’s on her cell phone even as she’s walking out the door. A horn blares at her as she turns too slowly. The road is slick, and he’s reeling off facts she needs to retain. She lifts one hand off the wheel to rub at her eyes.

She avoids glancing at the clock as she's sliding in to bed, stretching for the remote to the silence the television on the dresser. She pauses for a moment, doesn't look at the footage she’s seen all day of red hair whipping slightly in the January cold, hears only the voice saying, "my ex-husband, Toby Ziegler..."

She turns the set off.


End file.
